


The Mystery and Muscle of Love

by shadowsamurai



Category: Inspector Lynley Mysteries (TV), Waking the Dead (TV)
Genre: Angst, Explicit Language, F/M, Friendship, Gen, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-03
Updated: 2012-07-03
Packaged: 2017-11-09 03:03:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,554
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/450543
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shadowsamurai/pseuds/shadowsamurai
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Grace decides Boyd has had enough time to wallow and sets about sorting him out. Set post-S7 episode Pieta.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Mystery and Muscle of Love

**Author's Note:**

> Written with the lyrics 'she used her body just like a bandage, she used my body just like a wound' and 'she taught me everything I'll ever know about the mystery and the muscle of love', from Meatloaf's 'Objects In The Rearview Mirror', in mind. I also borrowed Detective Superintendent Michelle Tate from the Inspector Lynley Mysteries (penultimate TV episode). I don't own her character and she will be returned sharpish, as soon as Boyd gets his arse back to the office!

Disclaimer: I don't own anything, I'm just borrowing things for a while and I promise I'll put everything back exactly how I found it when I've finished. Well, almost exactly how I found it. ;)

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There was a loud crash as the glass hit the floor, the noise echoing around the empty house, enhanced by the stillness of the night. Boyd glared at the shards as though it was their fault they were there, and grabbed angrily at the bottle of scotch instead, taking a healthy swig from it.

There was no other way to describe it; Boyd looked a mess. He hadn't had his hair cut in months, and he hadn't shaved for weeks at least. He showered when he felt like it, which wasn't very often, and ate even less. And the worst of it was, he didn't care. After all, what was there left to care about?

Luke was dead. Boyd had finally found him and now he was dead. End of story.

He hadn't heard from Sarah in months, but he wasn't surprised. After all, he never phoned back after she said she loved him; he didn't expect her to wait around. She was still young and needed someone less damaged than he was to help heal her wounds.

And to top it all, Boyd had been suspended indefinitely for violent conduct. He snorted at that. His conduct, or so he thought, was exactly the same as it always was, which was the wrong side of rough, but it got results. Unfortunately, this time it got his suspect put in hospital and landed him with suspension. Time to 'get himself sorted', the commissioner said.

That had been nearly six months ago, and the only 'sorting' Boyd had done was to decrease his food supplies and increase the liquor ones. As he took another swig of the amber liquid, he allowed his thoughts to briefly stray to the team, but the moment he let that happen, pain and anger ripped through him.

Closing his eyes, Boyd put the bottle to his lips and drank, one slow gulp after another, until the bottle was empty and his head was swimming. The only noise then was the bottle hitting the floor and Boyd snoring.

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"How are we doing, Grace?"

Grace froze in place, her head down, her hand hovering over the piece of paper she was making notes on. She wasn't a woman prone to hate, but God, she hated her new boss.

"Nothing different than half an hour ago," Grace replied politely, not looking up.

Detective Superintendent Michelle Tate smiled at the profiler's bent head, though the expression didn't reach her eyes. "You know that the case hinges on what you…ahem…profile, don't you?"

Grace ground her teeth together. The way Tate said 'profile' made Grace's violent tendencies erupt, well, violently. "Yes, I'm well aware of that, but I can only work so quickly." Now she did look up. "And I work a lot better without distractions."

"Of course. I'll make sure you're not disturbed." Tate smiled again and closed the door.

Grace stared at the Superintendent as she made her way over to Spencer and Stella. She watched as the DI's posture stiffened, and Stella's French upbringing shone through wonderfully; the DC was muttering away in French, knowing full well that Tate didn't understand a word of what she was saying. Spencer relaxed a little, and Grace knew it was because Stella was swearing, in French, at the Superintendent.

"Good for you, Stella," Grace murmured, lowering her head but keeping her gaze on Tate. The woman finally moved off, heading towards the lab. "Oh dear." A quick phone call later had Eve prepared; Tate did not approve of the scientist smoking in the lab at all.

Grace finally took her glasses off and lowered her head into her hands. God, but she missed Boyd. She never thought she would, but she preferred his shouting, bawling, sulking and violence to Queen Ice Bitch Tate.

Well, except that last bout of violence, the one that got him suspended. Grace shook her head. They had all been out of the office, questioning and researching as usual, and they arrived back to a scene of utter disaster. Boyd was in handcuffs, looking ready to kill someone, and the paramedics were carrying off…someone on a stretcher.

Grace demanded to be left alone with Boyd for a few moments, hoping he would talk to her. After all, he had promised not to shut her out. The police officers agreed reluctantly, making it absolutely clear that if Grace got hurt, it was her own fault. Grace just nodded; she knew Boyd wouldn't hurt her. Not physically, anyway.

But Boyd didn't say anything, never uttered one word, and when he was finally taken away, Grace collapsed into a chair feeling wounded and confused. The next day the team learnt Boyd had been suspended for beating someone who wasn't even a suspect in the case they were working on. The guy was in hospital with a broken jaw, a cracked cheekbone, and three fractured ribs, plus any number of cuts and bruises. The team were horrified that Boyd had gone so far.

When the commissioner put Spencer in charge, everyone thought it was permanent, until a woman showed up a few days later, walked straight into Boyd's office and started issuing orders.

Spencer had politely asked who she was and what she was doing there; the newly introduced Detective Superintendent Tate had replied that she would not tolerate such mutinous behaviour in her unit. Grace remembered how she'd gripped Spencer's arm in an attempt to calm him; the DI later said he had bruises from the profiler's fingers. No one was happy with Tate's appointment; the thin veneer of sickly sweet, falsified mannerisms she tried to use to cover her cold interior didn't fool anyone.

The commissioner had defended his decision to bring in a different CO by saying he wanted someone with more experience; with a higher rank. Within a day, Spencer had reverted to the taciturn person he had become after Mel's death, not that anyone blamed him. It made more sense that he should have got the job; Grace suspected the commissioner was worried the DI would turn into another Boyd. Not that it would be a bad thing, in Grace's mind. Stella hardly smiled any more, and Eve rarely left the lab. All in all, there were no happy campers in the cold case offices.

Yet to everyone's great surprise, they had continued to rub along with each other for nearly six months, but Grace knew it couldn't last. She already knew that Eve was planning to move to another lab, and Stella was contemplating taking a job in the murder squad. Spencer was so pissed off he was thinking about taking early retirement, and Grace just wanted to get the hell out of there.

Which, Grace thought, looking at the clock, was exactly what she was going to do. Glancing up and seeing Tate was still absent from the bullpen, Grace stood quickly, made a vague attempt at tidying her desk, grabbed her coat and bag and left her office.

"I'm off. If Tate asks where…," the profiler started.

"We'll think of an excuse for you," Stella finished, giving Grace a tight smile.

Grace smiled back. "Thanks."

"Don't come back without the lion!" Spencer called. "If you do, he won't have anything to eat!"

The profiler waved and nodded, acknowledging Spencer's cryptic message, knowing Tate wouldn't understand it if she was lurking, eavesdropping. But Grace did. Come back with Boyd or don't come back at all was the basic gist, and she had no intention of returning without him.

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When Grace reached Boyd's house, she didn't even bother to knock. She just took out the spare key he had given her ages ago and opened the front door, pausing to listen for any telltale signs he was home. But the house was silent, except for a vague noise coming from the direction of the living room.

Grace stopped in the doorway, appalled at the sight of her friend. She hadn't seen him in months because he had never answered the door or the phone when she called, and she knew the rest of the team hadn't had much luck getting hold of him either. Guilt surged through her; she should have been more persistent, more insistent. She should have made certain he was alright

In an instant, Grace made a decision, even though she knew it might end up destroying her friendship with Boyd. But for his own good, she had to do it. She left the house again and drove to the local supermarket. A quick shop later and Grace was back at Boyd's; he was still fast asleep, his snores echoing through the lonely house.

As Grace put the groceries away, she came across his stock of alcohol, and without hesitation, she poured every last drop down the sink. The next thing she did was to make some fresh coffee, and then she headed upstairs to run a bath.

When she re-entered the kitchen, she was met with a very scruffy, very grumpy, and very red-eyed Boyd.

"What the hell are you doing, Grace?" he demanded to know, his voice scratchy.

Grace's heart fractured at the sight of him looking so desolate, but she raised her defensive walls and went on the attack. "Sorting you out. You look like shit and you smell worse."

Boyd didn't know whether to yell, laugh or walk out of the room, so he settled for staring incredulously at the woman in his kitchen. "What?"

"You heard me, Boyd. This has gone far enough," she told him firmly. "Now I've made you some coffee and I'm running a bath for you."

"I don't need mothering, Grace!" he yelled. "I'm capable of looking after myself!"

Grace wrinkled her nose a little. "It looks like it."

"Get out!" Boyd shouted at the top of his voice.

Grace jumped a little, but stood her ground. "No. You need someone to knock some sense into you, Boyd!"

His jaw jutted out at the challenge. "Literally?"

"If that's what it takes, then yes!" she shouted back.

Boyd leant forward a little. "Go on, then. Give it your best shot."

For a second, Grace was sorely tempted to slap him but she knew no good would come of that. "For God's sake, Boyd, I'm not going to hit you!"

"No, I do the hitting, don't I?" he said, his voice laced with self-loathing and regret.

Grace turned, poured a cup of coffee and handed it to Boyd, along with two aspirin. "Take these and drink that," she ordered, "and listen while I talk."

"Grace…," Boyd started to retort, but she cut him off quickly with a wave of her hand.

"No, you *will* listen to me, Boyd, even I have to strap you to the bed!"

"The bed? Really?" His eyes sparkled for a second, and it gave Grace hope.

"Maybe later. You smell too much right now."

Boyd's expression suddenly became serious. He took the painkillers and washed them down with a gulp of coffee. "Are you propositioning me, Dr. Foley?"

"If it's the only way to get you to listen to me, then yes!" Grace exclaimed in exasperation, not taking him at his word.

But Boyd sat down and stared at her intently. "I'm listening."

"The team is falling apart, Boyd. The commissioner drafted in some other DSI who is like the frozen Ice Queen of the bloody North," Grace told him.

A smile tugged at the edges of Boyd's lips. "You don't like her."

"No, I don't, and neither does anyone else. Spence was in charge and she just walked all over him when she arrived."

"That must have hurt."

Grace glared him. "I'm being serious, Boyd. Eve is about to move to another lab and Stella will be taking a job in the murder squad as soon as there's an opening."

Boyd drank the rest of his coffee and silently held his cup out for a refill. Grace's glare increased in its intensity but she put more liquid in anyway. "What about you and Spence?" he asked.

"Spence is thinking seriously about taking early retirement, and I'm just going to retire," she replied flatly. "I'm going to check on your bath." She left him sat in the kitchen, calling down the stairs a moment later. "And don't bother looking for any alcohol; I poured it all away."

"Grace!" Boyd shouted angrily, and followed her up the stairs two at a time. "What gives you the fucking right to just walk into my home and…?"

"I'm your friend, Peter!" Grace yelled back without letting him finish. "That gives me the fucking right! Now are you going to get undressed yourself or should I just rip the clothes off you?"

For the second time in less than an hour, Boyd was torn between what to do. Part of him should be angry about the way Grace was invading his private space and ordering him around, but another part of him was grateful that she cared enough to go head-to-head with him like she was doing. She never stood up to him this much at work; there was no surrender in her eyes at all and Boyd wasn't quite sure how to handle this Grace. He decided to call her bluff.

"You should just rip my clothes off," he replied in a level voice.

"Okay." Again there was no hesitation from Grace, and the next thing Boyd knew, the buttons on his shirt had been popped off and the shirt itself was lay on the floor.

"Grace!" Boyd protested as he felt his belt go.

"What? You said rip the clothes off, so that's what I'm doing."

"I didn't think you'd actually do it!"

Grace smiled sweetly at him. "I know. Now, are you going to finish the job yourself or should I carry on?"

"Get out, Grace!" Boyd exclaimed, his voice a little higher than normal, and the faint tinge of a blush crossing his cheeks. "Out of the bathroom!"

Grace carried on smiling. "Okay. I'll be outside if you need me to scrub your back."

She left before Boyd could look surprised or formulate a reply. He finished undressing and slid into the warm water, sighing in appreciation.

"I need towels, Grace," Boyd said after a while.

"They're on the unit," the reply came through the door.

Boyd waited for a beat before saying, "Thank you."

Outside, Grace smiled and decided to tease him a little. "For what, exactly?"

Inside the bathroom, Boyd groaned. "I knew you'd do that!"

"Do what?" Grace asked innocently.

"Go and get me some more coffee, Grace. Please."

"Would you like me to bring it in to you as well?"

Boyd shrugged. "If you want to." The silent reply told him she'd gone downstairs, and he wasn't sure if she'd heard him or not. He slid further into the bath and started to relax, his hangover subsiding. A knock on the door disturbed him. "Come in!"

The door opened and Grace entered, her eyes firmly shut. "You'll have to direct me."

"Are you shy, Grace?" Boyd asked, highly amused by the whole situation.

"No, there was just a possibility of me laughing so hard that I dropped the cup and these," she replied, holding the coffee mug out in one hand and two more aspirin in the other.

"That was a low blow, Grace," Boyd said, suddenly realising he was very naked in the bath.

Grace smiled and stood still. "Directions, Boyd?" She heard splashing and squeezed her eyes shut harder; the temptation to peek was just too much. His fingers grazed hers as he took the cup and painkillers from her, making her stomach give a surprising flutter, and then there was more splashing as he got back into the bath.

"Turn around until I say stop, then walk forward and out of the room," Boyd told her.

"Okay."

"Thank you, Grace," Boyd said once the door was shut. "For the coffee, the aspirin, the bath, the shopping…."

Grace laughed and shook her head. "You couldn't possibly know I went out shopping."

"I'm a policeman."

"Yes, you are, and you need to get back to your job," Grace replied seriously. "You have no idea how much the team needs you, Boyd."

He didn't say anything, but Grace could hear him in the bath, presumably washing himself. She let him continue in silence, noting that not ten minutes later, the water was gurgling down the drain. Boyd never questioned why Grace ran a bath instead of getting him to shower; he guessed she was probably afraid he would fall over.

"Fuck!" Boyd exclaimed, and without thinking, Grace flung the bathroom door open to see what had happened.

"Are you okay?" she asked, the concern in her voice evident.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Just nicked myself." Boyd gestured to his jaw, the blood gathering quickly at the opening, and shook his head. "I can't remember the last time I cut myself shaving."

Realising she was staring at Boyd, who was wearing nothing but a towel around his waist, Grace snapped her attention back to his face before he caught her. "Here, let me," she said softly. She stuck some paper tissue to the cut, slid the razor carefully out of his grasp, and continued to shave him.

Boyd just stood still and let her, his eyes following her every movement, and he tried not to laugh at how hard she was concentrating.

"There, how's that?" Grace asked after a few moments.

Boyd washed the foam off and rubbed his cheeks. "Much better, thanks."

"Have you got any scissors?"

"Somewhere."

"Find them and I'll be right back."

Boyd stared after her. "I never knew you were so authoritative, Grace!" he called as he routed through the drawers for a pair of scissors.

She reappeared with a chair. "There isn't much point around you. You're not very good at following orders." She gestured him to sit down.

"It depends which orders they are," he replied.

Grace bent a little to look at him. "Hold still. Don't move a muscle," she said, ignoring the innuendo. She took the scissors off him and carefully trimmed his goatee back to a reasonable length. Then she moved around the back and cut his hair, trying to ignore the fact that he was still dressed in a towel only, and it was a small towel at that.

"Can I move yet?" Boyd asked after a while. "My arse has gone numb."

"Want me to smack it for you?" Grace replied before she could stop herself.

"Maybe later," he said, and there was something in his voice that made Grace hesitate; he sounded serious.

"How's that?" she asked, handing him a mirror, hoping to change the conversation.

Boyd looked at his reflection. "I look…."

"Human again?"

"Something like that."

Grace smiled slightly. "Good. Right, I'll let you get dressed while I go downstairs and make you something to eat. Then I'll leave you to it."

"You're not eating with me?" Boyd asked, sounding disappointed.

"Do you want me to?"

"Only if you want to." As Grace's exasperated sigh, he quickly added, "I'd like you to stay, but only if you want to."

The profiler smiled properly. "Get dressed, Boyd. I trust you don't need a hand with that?"

"I might do," Boyd replied, his eyes shining. "Or just getting undressed again afterwards."

"Food first," Grace called as she went down the stairs. "You need to rebuild your strength!"

Boyd smiled as he walked into his bedroom. He liked the way Grace didn't elaborate what he needed his strength for.

Over dinner, Grace told Boyd everything that had happened since his suspension, and his face grew darker the more he heard about DSI Tate. He knew Grace wasn't a biased person, so from the way she kept referring to Tate as Queen Ice Bitch, Boyd knew it must be true.

He sighed, suddenly tired.

"Tired?" Grace asked softly.

Boyd smiled. "How did you know?"

"You've been trying to drink yourself into oblivion for months," Grace replied. "In the last few hours, your body has had a hell of a shock. It needs time to recover."

"None of this softly-softly approach with you, eh, Grace? Straight in the deep end."

Grace nodded. "Abso-bloody-lutely."

Boyd laughed and shook his head. "I really don't deserve you."

Grace leant over the table and patted his hand. "I know. Now how about I wash the dishes while you go to bed?"

She attempted to move her hand away but Boyd grabbed it. "Come with me."

"That wouldn't solve anything, Boyd."

"That's a better answer than 'I don't want to'," he said, smiling.

Grace had almost said that but she realised it wasn't true. She *did* want to, and for all the right reasons. She just didn't know if Boyd wanted to because of the same reasons, and she didn't want to get hurt.

As if he could read her mind, Boyd said, "I'm asking because I've had a lot of time to think, Grace. I know I've shut you out, and that I really don't deserve you, but have you ever wondering *why* I shut you out?"

"Constantly," she replied dryly.

"You're the one person who knows me completely; you're the one person who could hurt me the most if I let you in." He shook his head. "What's that called, Grace? What does it mean when I feel like you're the only one who can mend my broken heart?"

"Clichés, Boyd?" Grace asked, amused despite the seriousness of the situation.

He shrugged. "If the shoe fits…."

Grace sighed and looked at his dark eyes. "It's called love, Peter."

He lifted her hand to his lips and kissed it. "I thought it might be. Now are you going to give me an answer?"

"I'll come up after I've washed up. We'll see if you're still awake or not." There was the hint of a challenge in Grace's voice, and Boyd knew it was to make things seem more normal between them.

"Don't be too long, then," Boyd replied, smiling as he stood and left the kitchen.

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Boyd was indeed still awake when Grace went upstairs, her stomach fluttering madly, unsure if what she was about to do was the best idea she'd ever had or not. But as soon as Boyd kissed her, Grace's doubts flew out of the window.

Their love making was slow and tender; they had all the time in the world and they made good use of it. Grace's doubts only reappeared once; when it was all over, she was convinced Boyd would fall asleep, or realise he'd made a mistake and ask her to leave.

But he dispelled her qualms quickly by gathering her into his arms and talking to her while drawing lazy patterns on her skin. He told her everything, all his thoughts and feelings since Luke had died, and Grace listened quietly, her fingers running over the light dusting of hair on Boyd's chest as he spoke.  
After a while he fell silent, but Grace felt his body began to shake. With a little effort, she climbed on top of him, spread-eagling him, covering his body with hers as though she was trying to protect him. Boyd wrapped his arms around her back and kept her as close as possible to him.

"Stay, Grace, please."

Grace smiled, pleased. "Of course."

"I don't just mean tonight, I mean always," Boyd said quietly. "I know that's a long time, and it's not going to be easy, but…."

Grace put a finger on his lips. "I said I would and I meant I would, whether it's for tonight or until we die. And life with you isn't easy, Boyd; I'm used to it by now."

Boyd was too happy to even pretend to be hurt by her words. "Is this love, Grace?"

Her smile grew. "I think so. Is it what you expected?"

"No."

"Me neither."

"Did you expect to find it in me? With me?"

"No."

"Likewise."

"Would you change it?"

"Not for anything."

"Nothing?"

"Nothing humanly possible, anyway."

Grace manoeuvred herself so she could kiss him. "I'm here, Peter. It will be okay, eventually."

He smiled and kissed her back. "Thanks, Grace."

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*Three weeks later….*

One thing the entire team had found strange was the fact that the guy Boyd beat up never pressed charges. It turned out that he was indeed innocent of the crime Boyd was investigating, but he was heavily guilty of downloading and distributing child pornography.

Grace discovered this when she went to talk to the commissioner about Boyd getting reinstated. She promised him that Boyd hadn't had a drop of alcohol to drink in three weeks, and that she was keeping a very close eye on him.

The commissioner had studied her carefully for a few moments before silently reaching for a pen and writing a letter. Something had obviously changed between Grace and the suspended DSI, but so long as it didn't affect their work - and the commissioner highly doubted they would be that unprofessional - he wasn't bothered. In fact, he was happy for them.

He handed Grace the letter, now in a sealed envelope, and said it was for Boyd's eyes only. She nodded and left, calling by CCHQ before she left. She hadn't been in for three weeks, using up some of her holiday time that she'd accumulated over the years. Tate had been less than happy at the sudden disappearance of the profiler, but Grace really didn't give a shit.

Spencer all but glowered at the profiler when she entered the office, and Stella quickly spoke up before the DI did. "No lion?" she asked.

Grace shrugged. "Working up an appetite, I guess," she replied cryptically.

"What do you want?" Spencer asked grumpily.

"To apologise for abandoning you, but I had to. And to explain why Boyd isn't in prison."

Eve frowned. "What do you mean?"  
Grace jumped a little, not noticing the scientist lurking in the corner, cigarette in one hand, incense in the other. "He beat that man pretty badly," the profiler replied, "yet no charges were ever brought against him. Boyd's suspension continued because he was drinking heavily and in no fit state to work."

"Why didn't the man press charges?" Stella asked, leaning onto the desk.

"Because he was into child pornography, big time."

Eve shook her head. "Looks like Boyd was right after all, then."

"Yes, but what he did was still wrong," Grace replied. "Where's Tate anyway?"

"Not here, thankfully," Spencer said. "Look, Grace, I'm sorry about before."

She smiled and patted his hand. "Don't worry about it."

"So, is Boyd coming back or not?" Eve asked, voicing the question they all wanted an answer to.

Grace looked at her watch. "Sorry, I have to go." She stood up and walked to the doors, pausing before she went through them. "Make sure you're all early tomorrow. Bye!"

"Did that make sense to anyone?" Stella asked after a beat.

"Nope," Spencer replied.

"I guess it will tomorrow," Eve added.

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Grace walked into the office the next morning with a smile on her face, and she was humming softly. "Good morning, everybody," she said, greeting Spencer, Stella and Eve, who were all sat waiting patiently for *something* to happen.

"So are you going to tell us why we had to get here early?" Spencer asked.

"Did I interrupt your beauty sleep, Spence?" Grace replied innocently, pouring herself a cup of coffee.

Spencer couldn't help but grin at that. "Don't need any."

Eve let out a loud 'ha', which she covered up with a cough, and Stella said, "Who told you that?"

"The mirror does, every morning," Spencer replied smugly.

The laughter was still ringing through the office when Tate arrived. "Is something amusing?" she asked.

"Not now it isn't," Eve muttered very quietly.

Tate then noticed Grace. "What are you doing here, Dr. Foley? Aren't you supposed to have another week off?"

Grace shuddered inwardly at the woman's voice. "I decided to come back early."

Tate stared at her. "You decided to come back early," she repeated slowly. "Well I would appreciate being told about your movements, and asked if it is acceptable to me that you return early."

Stella's eyes widening, and Spencer's jaw clenched, but Grace just smiled very sweetly at the DSI. "I don't need to tell you anything, or ask your permission for anything."

"What did you say?" Tate asked, her pale face whitening even more.

"You heard me, or are you deaf as well as frozen?" Grace retorted calmly. Stella and Eve shared an incredulous look while Spencer was gazing at Grace as though she was Wonder Woman.

"I will not stand being spoken to like that! You may work for the Home Office, Dr. Foley, but in here, you answer to me," Tate replied heatedly.

"Actually, I don't. And neither do they," Grace said, gesturing to her colleagues. "We answer to him."

Tate wheeled round to see Boyd leant in the doorway to his office, and as she glanced past him, she could see it *was* his office again. She briefly wondered where all of her personal affects had been put, but her attention was brought back to the man in front of her.

"What the hell are you doing here?" Tate snapped.

"Working. And don't raise your voice in my office," he told her calmly, his arms folded across his chest. "I'm the only one who's allowed to do that."

"*Your* office?" Tate replied, her voice now quiet and incredulous.

"That is what I said. Didn't you get the memo?" Boyd asked politely.

Tate clenched her jaw. "Obviously not."

"Good job I made a copy then." Boyd walked into his office, picked up a piece of paper, and handed it to her. "Enjoy. I know I certainly did."

Everyone watched silently as Tate read the piece of paper, her eyes betraying every emotion she was experiencing. Finally, she handed the letter back to Boyd. "I expect my copy got lost in the interdepartmental post," she said, holding her hand out. "Welcome back, Detective Superintendent Boyd."

Boyd smiled and took the outstretched limb. "Thank you." He then made a sudden movement, pulling Tate off balance and closer to him. "If our paths ever cross again, you will regret it. No one treats my team like shit, understand? They are the best, and they deserve more respect than you do. You should never have been put in charge, and I'll make sure you never get this command again." He pushed her away, released her hand, and allowed his smile to grow. "Don't let the door hit you too hard on the way out, Detective Superintendent Tate."

Tate knew the battle was lost. She turned on her heel and stormed out of the office, never once looking back.

"Good riddance," Eve said.

"I think we should change all the locks," Stella murmured thoughtfully.

Spencer's eyes were locked on Boyd. "The lion certainly took his time."

Boyd gave the younger man a genuine smile before shifting his gaze to Grace as he replied, "The lion had important things to sort out." Grace blushed and walked to Boyd's side, taking his hand.

Eve was the first to respond. "Are you two…?" she started, her excitement barely contained.

Boyd nodded. "We are indeed."

"But this stays between us," Grace added, gesturing to everyone in the room. "For now, at least."

Stella beamed. "Congratulations."

"Thanks," Grace said, smiling back.

Boyd looked at the DI. "Spence?"

For once, Grace couldn't read Spencer's expression and that worried her. He remained silent for quite some time, his eyes flickering between them. Then he stood and walked up to Boyd.

"If you hurt her, I *will* hurt you," he said quietly, his tone ominous. Before Boyd could reply, Spencer turned to Grace. "And if you hurt him…well, he'll probably have deserved it. But if you really hurt him, I will never let you forget it."

"No hurting me?" Grace asked.

"I don't hit women; they tend to hit back harder," Spencer replied, straight-faced. Then he opened his arms and Grace stepped forward to embrace him. "I'm happy for you." He let her go and turned to Boyd. "Both of you."

Boyd grinned and clapped Spencer's shoulder. "Thanks, Spence."

"Congratulations," Eve said from the other side of the room where she was happily smoking. "Don't mind me - Tate was stiffer than a broom handle, and I know I'm not supposed to smoke in her, but it's only a one off."

"Speaking of that *woman*, I need to see what a mess she's left behind." Boyd gave Grace a quick kiss on the cheek before going into his office.

Grace headed to hers and began to settle back into a routine. It felt good to be back at work, and even better knowing Boyd was just across the hall, but something still didn't feel quite right.

"What the hell is this shit?" Boyd's voice exclaimed loudly. "Spence!"

Grace smiled and shook her head. Now things were back to normal.

FIN


End file.
